


Two for Hooking

by DandyLions88



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corporate, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Romance, al and matt like rich men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 12:34:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4349024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DandyLions88/pseuds/DandyLions88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twin brothers, Alfred and Matthew, are at the height of their hockey careers. Whilst the brothers frequently appear in the papers for their play-making successes, the relationships of the brothers have been heavily followed by the public for the pattern of high profile men. USUK, Franada</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dorky twin athletes and their ability to seduce rich men in suits :)
> 
> Past Rusame, AmeriPan- to be USUK, but Arthur doesn't appear in this chapter.

There were several things for which the WIlliams-Jones twins were known. 

Their surname was long for one, and had caused a media frenzy when the compromise was for each respective brother to wear one part of their family name on their jersey. 

They were drafted first and second overall in their draft year (and Alfred had infamously tackled his brother after Matthew had gone first). 

When playing for separate teams, they always fist-bumped at the end of a game against each other. When playing together, they always helmet tapped each other. For years the media (and public alike) came up with possible reasoning for their ritual, to no clear clarification. 

But as of late, at the prime age of 27, the Williams-Jones twins were incredibly known for their romantic relations with extremely high-profile men. 

 

Both brothers owned real estate in both Canada and the United States, but chose to live together during the off-season. During the months of trades and management changes, it became a routine for the two brothers to have some sort of comfort as their friends were traded, or even becoming traded themselves. 

Despite being a power duo, each brother was strong in their own right. Alfred was the sniper- incredible at quick thinking and shooting. A lethal shoot-out choice. Meanwhile, Matthew was the play-maker, and could pass the puck but _just knowing._ As such, as desired as it was for the twins to remain together, they were incredible collateral for trades, especially since they rarely liked long-term contracts.

 

The coffee pot began to drip as the door bell to Alfred’s New York penthouse rang. It meant the housekeeping staff had arrived with papers and Alfred’s Sunday request of room-service.

“Oh brother dearest, the papers are here~ And look who’s front and centre of the gossip section? Could it be Rihanna? Could it be Justin Bieber? Oh no, it’s the Toronto Towers’s assistant captain, Matthew-according-to-his-jersey-Williams! AND, oh, is that French wine magnate, Francis Bonn…ni…foy?” Alfred held up the paper to peer at over his glasses and made at face at the unexpectedly foreign name. As his brother groaned, Alfred snickered and slid the daily paper over to Matthew. 

“Actually, it’s pronounced like ‘bon-fwah’, but that’s wasted on you,” Matthew sighed. He drizzled some syrup over his pancakes, and looked at the paper. “The camera doesn’t do him justice.” 

“Where did you meet him?” Alfred asked nonchalantly, digging into his eggs. “You surely don’t consume wine.” 

“Unlike some people, I actually make an effort to meet owners and investors. I don’t know how he’s linked, but he’s like friends with management. But I think they want to make some partnership with alcohol providers.” 

Alfred frowned, and his twin immediately read his expression. Matthew sucked in his cheeks and shook his head. 

“Al, you need to quit skipping on owners’ meetings because of Iv-“ 

“Na, na, na, na!” Alfred sang, stuffing his mouth with eggs before his brother could get another word in edgewise. Matthew rolled his eyes, and cut into his pancakes solemnly. 

Choosing to change the subject, Matthew stirred his coffee and said, “Well, I received invitations to the New York tech convention. I was  wondering if you wanted to go? It’s in Queens, actually, but it could be like a day trip?”

“Uh, oh, I don’t know. Are you actually interested in that stuff? You’re a history major, ha.” 

“I’m trying, Al.”

“I know.” 

 

Ivan Braginsky was a Russian-born banking prodigy. He came to America to finish his Masters in Computer Science and Finance, only to stay when he’d been introduced to then-Dallas Diamonds right-winger Alfred-as-per-his-jersey-Jones. Alfred was well liked by the media, and easily socialized with Ivan’s social circle that consisted of equally important persons in the corporate world.

When they reached their 2-year anniversary, there was buzz that Ivan was going to propose. But the next day, papers were splashed with images of an evident fight between a 6ft hockey player and his 6ft-3 boyfriend. 

Braginsky had felt it appropriate to purchase the Diamonds, which had caused an eventual deterioration with his relation with Alfred. The then-24 year old immediately requested a trade. 

Despite it all, the two parted ways and went on to succeed in their own way. Braginsky made a name for himself in America, whilst Alfred became the second highest paid hockey player- after (goddamnit) his own brother- and currently playing in New York. Alfred had been seen with short flings since, but never remained attached to one person very long.

 

Alfred’s last fling was with a Japanese CEO of a video-game company, but whilst Alfred invested quite a bit money to finance his video-game addiction, Kiku Honda didn’t hold the same interest in hockey. As such, they two broke apart romantic relations amicably, and unexpecteldy became great friends. It was beneficial for Alfred to play in New York City because it meant Kiku could make visits more often, with it being such an important metropolitan for the economy.

 

Matthew had left the penthouse to pay off some bills, which left Alfred in the apartment to do whatever he pleased before the Matthew came back and the brothers went to train at the gym.

Alfred flipped the invitation over, and scanned the menu and VIPs. He had personally met about half of the honoured guests, being a celebrity and all. Sure enough, Francis Bonn-fwah’s wine was being served, which might have explained the invitation. It was almost certain that Kiku would attend the tech convention, after launching his company’s new gaming device in America. Alfred was a nerd for these things, holding a degree in physics, anyway. 

Just as he was in the midst of calling his Japanese companion with his iPhone, Alfred's blue eyes narrowed at the sight of the logo of Ivan's firm under "Sponsors".


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred thirdwheels, and Arthur is clueless about hockey.

“If I recall correctly, the stocks are in the centre of the paper, not the back, Mr. Braginsky.”

Ivan Braginsky set his paper down and smiled as his new lawyer, Arthur Kirkland, sauntered into the buzzing conference room. “Mr. Kirkland, a pleasure.”

“We’re well acquainted, Ivan.We can drop the formalities. I just got back from your firm’s meeting in Chicago, and was kindly reminded of tonight,” Arthur said, gesturing to the nearly-complete room. Volunteers and coordinators alike scurried in putting up banners and moving prototypes into their appropriate section. “Yao was telling me how much publicity you were getting for your kind partnership with the convention.” 

“Yes, well, the public never has good views on commercial banks. But I enjoy the city, as much as I can with how little I actually visit,” Ivan chuckled. 

 Arthur nodded, picking up the discarded paper. “Sports, Braginsky? I never pegged you for caring for that.” 

“I’ll have you know I was quite the athlete as a student. I imagine you were as well, being English and all.”

The lawyer made a face at the overwhelming accomplishments by American athletes. “I’ll admit I’m a strict Premier League follower, but that’s about it. Basketball, baseball, gridiron, all American favourites, never really bothered.”

“Da, I am not a fan of American football either. I’m not sure how acquainted you are with my personal possessions, though. I own a hockey team, actually. They were one game away from the Cup. Pity.” 

“I, uh, well, that’s a pity indeed. But no matter- I’m sure you were ecstatic with game revenue,” Arthur said, trying to lighten the mood of his boss. “If I can guess, it’s not hockey season anymore. That gives you some time to mentally prepare yourself, assuming you’re a diehard hockey fan. Hockey is big in Russia, yes?”

“Yes, but I never played after University. I follow here, though. Big Russian names, but also good American and Canadian players. All good, all interesting.” Ivan pointed to the meagre section dedicated to recent updates in the professional league of hockey. “Is offseason, but still a lot of trading happening. It’s business, really.” 

“Ah, mhmm,” the Englishman nodded. Arthur was actually really hoping to move the conversation along. Sports were nice to discuss over a cheap beer or over dinner at home, but hockey wasn't exactly a strong subject point that Arthur could contribute much to. He had been in America for no more than 2 years, and rarely met cities which dedicated themselves to the winter sport.

(Was there even a hockey team in England?)

"Anyway, I should probably go check back with the organizers. I have some personal requests that need to be taken care of. I suppose I'll see you tonight, Arthur?" Ivan asked, digging his pocket for his phone. 

"Yes, Ivan. I'm staying for the weekend at the Plaza. Just give my cell a ring if you need any help with paperwork or what not." Arthur mentally wiped his forehead. 

"Alright, have a good evening," Ivan waved to his lawyer- or at least one of his lawyers.

 

 

"Francis is it? Yeah, you're an asshole," Alfred declared, and proceeded to groan when Matthew slapped the back of his head. "Alfred Jones does not thirdwheel unless it's to make a bomb-ass line."

"This is literally how I feel when you're dating someone and you still need to me to sit with you at the year end awards. And agh, remember that picture that one year when you beat me in points by only 2 points and you made me stand beside you and Jess? Jesus H. Christ. I'm not forcing you to ride in the car with us. Take your Audi." 

"But then I can't get schwasted with Kiku at the VIP after-party." Alfred sighed. He turned to his brother's new beau and laid a heavy hand on the Frenchman's shoulder. "I will like you more so if your wine is as good as they say it is. Also, your beard is funny. Post play-off beards are usually like, shiver-worthy, but you make it work." 

"Ah, bon. It is a pleasure to meet the infamous Alfred Jones. Sorry about the your conference quarterfinals." Francis Bonnefoy offered a smile small. The businessman clapped his hands together. "Regardless, we will have fun tonight, even if it really a nerd convention for adults. I intend to get beautifully inebriated as well, and see old and new friends alike."

"I heard that there are these betas for these sticks that are supposed to be light AF but project pucks incredibly well. The league doesn't want them because they're way too techy in how they work, but if I get my hands on those, and they're like the best, expect me to nag management," Matthew nudged his brother, hoping to make his brother a bit more okay with riding in the same car. "Or you know, you could just buy them for me, so our games will be matched since you still shoot with too much strength and not enough finesse."

"I still have a contract with Bauer. And my strength is finesse-ful AF," Alfred grinned, grabbing his blazer and walking out ahead of the new couple

 

Kiku had promised to meet up after his segment was over. After ditching his brother and the wine-drunk, Alfred had put his guest pass to use and basically invaded as many booths as possible.  

Perhaps his biggest fear was running into Ivan. It’d be 3 years now, but the relationship he’d formed with the Russian was deeply engrained into him. So far, he saw no sight of the man, and guessed he was making keynote speeches in the theatre. He’d also made Matthew text him if he ran into Ivan. 

_So far, so good._

Unsurprisingly, he met some fans along the way, and occasionally signed a few pamphlets. It got the point where Alfred just pocketed some free pens for autographs.  

Memories of college flooded his brain as he walked through the booths, reminders of design teams and calculations. He never went on to fully pursue engineering, a candidate for his post-bachelors. Still, being a professional athlete, and getting to be on the journey with his own brother was irreplaceable.  

"Is that the stupid hockey stick Mattie was talking about?" he whispered, as he finally got the end of the room, and noticing a small section dedicated to prototypes and betas in sports equipment. They were still marketed under big electronic brands, but it was still nice to see his own career having a small part of his night.

 

 

Just as Arthur was about to call it night, his eyes roamed and landed on an handsome specimen currently in conversation with, Arthur guessed, some college students (by their ill-fitting shirts and bright polos).

The man was dressed in a simple gunmetal-coloured shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to properly grip, what looked to be a more advanced hockey stick. His golden blond hair looked amazing against his bronze skin. This man was either a dedicated gym go-er or an athlete. But what was an athlete doing here, never mind with an important guest pass around his neck. 

As the blue-eyed man reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen, and proceeded to scrawl something on the students’ papers, Arthur could only assume that the man was a celebrity of sorts. Arthur scratched out entertainment because as much as he lived under a rock, he kept up to date with the famous peoples of the USA. 

“Probably an athlete,” Arthur mused. “And blast all, probably with my luck, a bloody hockey player.”

Arthur had to guess that the athlete was just under 30, probably at the peak of his career. He looked back at the man, and noticed how his face lit up being around fans. It was rather endearing, actually.

“Maybe my night isn’t over yet.”

 

 

“Hey, yeah, thanks guys! It’s always nice meeting some fans,” Alfred told the cluster of younger men. “You know what, just call this number and tell them ‘eagle’ and that Alfred met you guys. Hook you up with some season opener tickets. How’s that sound?”

When the group finished up with their pictures and ‘thank-you’’s, Alfred got back to stick-handling the weird gadget his brother had been all over. Alfred much would have preferred the traditional sticks; he just enjoyed the sound much better, as well as the authenticity. 

“Can’t say it's everyday an athlete visits a tech convention. Are you here to look for a new computer? A BestBuy would suffice.” 

Alfred looked up from the stick to locate the source of the jab (and English accent!), and his eyes widened at the daring and authoritative green eyes looking back at him.

“Ha ha, I’ll have you know I actually built my computer. I used to be friends with a comp sci student. Don’t need no Apple, or whatever prissy brand you represent, sir.” 

The Englishman lifted a single (thick) eyebrow. “My apologies. It’s rare I bump into such a fine looking man at one of these events.” When he noticed Alfred shrug nonchalantly, Arthur hastily added,”And terribly sorry if you’re not an athlete- I just assumed-“

 “Naw, man, chill out. First of all, if you looked hard enough, there’s an almost identical human being in this building, my brother, and I am an athlete. Right-winger, actually.” 

Arthur blinked. “Right…” 

“Oh, for hockey,” Alfred supplied, and stuck out his hand. “Alfred Jones.” 

“Arthur Kirkland.” _He is a hockey player- what are the odds_.

“Since you so easily judged me, can I guess you? I may be, as you said ‘fine looking’, but you look important as shit. Whatcha doing roaming around for hockey players at a tech convention?” 

Arthur laughed, "Well, unlike you, my computer is from BestBuy. I know nothing about electronics, or advancements in technology. I'm actually a lawyer. I'm just here to support a client."

Alfred internally preened. He'd never met another lawyer. His own was a friend of his dad's- a 50-something year old man divorced twice. There was something just attractive about meeting such smart people in the world- it was a plus when they looked attractive and were clearly drawn to Alfred. 

After knowing Arthur's occupation, Alfred looked at him up and down and smiled. If Mattie could have fun tonight, he probably wouldn't even notice (or care) if Alfred made a friend or two. Kiku would understand. 

"Hey, you want to grab a drink? I have, uh, clearance to enter the VIP after show thing," Alfred offered. Arthur chuckled. 

"I'm already buzzed, but why not. We're two blokes with no real reason to be here. I have car waiting." Alfred scoffed. 

"I'm taller than you, bro. Don't take me for a Cinderella. But since you find me all hot and shit, you can buy me a pitcher of beer." 

Arthur smirked. "A Frenchman's wine is being pushed here quite a bit. Don't take it you like it?"

"Not so much the wine as the person behind it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Alfred has a suit kink :)


End file.
